


The King, his brother and the golden wren

by Titlark



Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 06:05:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8001307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titlark/pseuds/Titlark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It´s autumn 1663. Louis XIV. is with his mother, brother and all the court on his way to the hunting lodge not far from Paris. No one can know that such an unimportant trip can shake with fate and change the lives of whole royal family. To aggravate the situation, each one of them has his personal problems to deal with and not all of them can be easily overcome...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The King, his brother and the golden wren

Autumn 1663

This bedchamber really wasn´t one of the biggest or the most lavish rooms the Palace of Louvre could provide. In fact it was rather small and the heavy lacquered furniture made of walnut wood took up most of the space. The walls were painted green and decorated with three tapestries. Two of them portrayed a hunt – Louis XIII. and his courtiers, all of them on horseback, chasing a deer. The third one was quite different, there was a Saint Denis after decapitation, holding his own head in his arms. Bishop´s eyes rolled heavenward, like he had something to say about his view – directly on the bed currently occupied by two lovers. Nestled up against each other they slept calmly under one blanket. One of them bore a certain resemblance to the man in the hunting tapestry. Even though loom-made portrait can hardly capture someone´s look accurately, those long black hair and gentle aristocratic profile were surely the same. Philippe, the Duke of Orleans, known as Monsieur, inherited something of his father´s appearance, unlike his older brother, and he was proud of that. Some scandalous gossips even suggested, that Monsieur alone was fathered by the deceased king and nobody but Queen Anne´s favorite, Cardinal Mazarin, is responsible for the firstborn Louis. But very few would dare even whisper about such a possibility. Certainly not close to a member of the royal family, for none of the brothers would wait for the executioner to punish such an insult.  
Philippe moved in sleep and pushed his face to his companion, also a young man. He was less pale than Philippe, fair-haired and that certainly wasn´t the only difference between them. For example, Chevalier de Lorraine was quite sure to know the gossip about king´s parentage – simply because he knew all of the gossip ever said about anyone and by anyone. Besides he was able to pick up with an extraordinary exactness any information he could use to his own advantage or profit, those he could use for simple gleeful teasing of others and some to share with his lover. It provided a good entertainment for both of them. This sharp-tongued fop was part of Monsieur´s household for three years and people started to notice the influence he had over him. For the rest of the world they were inseparable friends but the truth was that Philippe loved his Chevalier with devotion and blind certainty of someone never betrayed in love.  
Saint Denis definitely had much to look at.  
It wasn´t even dawn when the door opened and Monsieur´s valet silently sneaked into the room with a little candle in his hand. His steps were as inaudible as a cat´s as he went around the bed and tapped on his employer´s shoulder.  
“Monsieur,” he whispered, “Monsieur, you wanted me to wake you.”  
Philippe made a last attempt to stay asleep, but he gave up and stared at the servant through the eyelids glued together by dreamless sleep.  
“Hour before dawn, Monsieur,” valet announced when he was sure Philippe was able to comprehend the sentence.  
Philippe yawned and mumbled: “Yes, thank you.” Then he got up immediately, because he felt he could easily fall asleep again.  
Valet took Monsieur´s nightgown from the chair and helped him to put it on. At the same moment he also picked up the blue dressing gown made of brocade silk, the Chevalier moved in his sleep and when his hand couldn´t find anyone else in bed he opened his eyes and looked at Philippe.  
“You´re not serious,” the Chevalier gave a sigh and fell into the pillows again.  
Philippe nodded on the valet, who left the room immediately, and smiled.  
“You should sleep,” he said softly, “it´s not yet dawn.”  
“That´s what I´m talking about. Come to bed.”  
Monsieur shook his head. “You know they can´t find me here,” he reminded, “and the people wake up soon. Henriette shouldn´t know I wasn´t in my own bed.”  
The Chevalier smiled. “One word, my love, and I´ll make sure you´ll never have to leave your own bed again.”  
“You know what I mean,” replied Philippe while putting on the dressing gown, “she is my friend, my cousin and my wife. I owe her at least -”  
“Yes, yes, a little hypocrisy is exactly what spouses appreciate the most,” the Chevalier stretched himself under the blanket, “that exceptional woman is lucky to have you.”  
Philippe frowned. “Don´t play jealous, you were never good at it.”  
“Perhaps because you´ve had never time to notice,” the Chevalier continued, “sometimes I´m surprised you even remember my name. You come here in the dark and creep away before the first morning light – you´re not ashamed of us, are you?”  
“Perhaps I should be.”  
“Nonsense,” the Chevalier stretched out his hand to Philippe with an imperative gesture, “come here.”  
Philippe hesitated, but then he slowly obeyed and sat on the edge of the mattress. His lover sat up as well, pushed himself closer and kissed Philippe´s neck several times. Even that little was enough to make Philippe shiver for his body was still hot and sensitive from bed. Chevalier smiled when he saw a little goose bumps all over the skin he touched.  
“I´m not sure I can bear to share you,” he whispered, “you belong to me, my love, and I want you to remember it. Every day, hour and minute I want you to know you´re mine.”  
Philippe yielded to the fondling silently before he sighed: “Sometimes I´m not sure where you are from, heaven or hell.”  
“You´re my cherub and I´m your god, it´s as simple as that.” He snapped his fingers.  
Philippe turned around. “You shouldn´t talk like this.”  
The Chevalier looked into Philippe´s eyes and raised an eyebrow. “Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.”  
Philippe couldn´t hold a straight face anymore and burst into laughter.  
“Honestly,” he said, tears in his eyes, “you calling me father is what I really missed in our bed.”  
The Chevalier smiled as well. “See? I know you better than you think.”  
“I have to go.”  
Suddenly the Chevalier grasped Philippe, pulled him to the mattress, threw himself on him and pinned Philippe´s arms to the bed. Their noses almost touched.  
“Let me go,” gasped Philippe, half breathless as Chevalier fell on his chest.  
“No.”  
“Stop this!”  
“Beg me!”  
“Never!” Philippe gathered his strength and shoved his lover away. The Chevalier immediately made an attempt to trap him, but was swiftly hit in the face by a large white pillow. He made a counter-attack and soon both men changed into a screaming and laughing jumble of arms, legs and bed linen. In a short time they reached the end of bed and hit the floor, both wrapped up in the sheet.  
They laughed silently for a while and after the giggle ceased, Philippe bit the Chevalier´s ear playfully and kissed his cheek.  
“I love you,” he whispered.  
“Good,” the Chevalier smiled and kissed him back, “now off you go. It´s time.”  
They both got up and the Chevalier received one last kiss goodbye.  
“And Philippe!”  
Monsieur turned around in the door. “Yes?”  
“Today you wear the green coat. You know, that one with the gold embroidery and ribbon round the waist.”  
“Why?”  
“Because I want you to wear it,” was the response, “that´s why.”  
Philippe nodded and left.  
The Chevalier lay down the bed and looked at the Saint Denis on the wall.  
“I know how you feel, my friend,” he said and soon fell asleep again. 

***

It was the first cold morning of the year. After three weeks of an Indian summer, in the middle of October the sun lost its strength and the ground frost covered the streets of Paris. The cold breeze ruffled the hair and clothes of anyone standing in the open.  
The line of carriages waited in front of the palace to take the king and all the court to the hunting lodge.  
The king was already prepared and watched the grey sky and dark clouds announcing the arrival of cold weather. His handsome face was scowled and unfriendly like the sky outside. Of course mother was unwell, and of course he gladly stayed in Louver until she was better, but now it seemed they lost the last nice days of this year by sitting in this small, gloomy, old fashioned... Louis turned away from the window and some of his feelings were probably mirrored on his face, because always-present Bontemps immediately asked: “Is something wrong, sire?”  
Louis was in no mood to speak, so he just waved his hand towards the window.  
Bontemps understood and took a look outside as well.  
“I´ve heard, sire, some academy in Florence made a great progress in forecasting the weather,” he said just to fill the silence.  
“Good,” Louis responded without some significant interest in his voice, “we have our monsieur Baudin, his tree frog in a glass and a crystal ball.”  
“But I´m sure even in rain you´ll enjoy the hunt. The woods around Versailles are filled with roe deer and partridges I believe.”  
“You believe and I hope. After the last two weeks I have an urge to shoot something.”  
No one could tell if Bontemps was aware of the main reasons of king´s deteriorating mood. If so, he wisely chose not to talk about it. The truth was the king´s new found love, Louise de La Valliere appeared to be in a high-risk pregnancy, which forced the king to share a bed with his own wife.  
Silence spread across the room and the mood remained until the knock on the door. Bontemps went to open and after receiving the message he announced: “Sire, the Queen is ready.”  
Louis´s mind was taken up by weather all the time he came out from the room, greeted his wife on the corridor, offered her an arm and went down the stairs with her, followed by the servants and her ladies.  
Downstairs many people waited for them in the entrance hall.  
Anne of Austria occupied a place of honor in the crowd, very regal in her blue velvet robe. Philippe and Henriette were just descending the opposite staircase. Louis showed an almost imperceptible smile when he set his eyes on his sister-in-law. At least one bright tone in the grey, he thought. His smile became wider and he suddenly imagined a daffodil – a springtime bloom, covered in dew, the first one which dared to follow the heat of the early morning sun.  
She was a beauty, of course, but that wasn´t what always caught his eye. Nearly breathless he contemplated a wonder he saw so many times before and yet as every time was the first one. Her allure was all about simplicity, making things easy, perhaps also about the fact she was his family – always near as long as he could remember, always tender, always certain, always funny, always kind. Perhaps that is why her glowing skin lured him so, it was her inner beauty that lit her eyes and softened her features. When she smiled and laughed he couldn't help but smile along too, even if it was just inside. To be in her company was to feel that he was someone unparalleled – not only a king, there is so many of them after all, more than a king. He watched her and he had been warmed in summer rays regardless of the season.  
Philippe was talking to her at the moment, and she probably wasn´t quite pleased with what she heard. King managed to eavesdrop a few last words: “... we´ll talk later.”  
“My dear,” Louis smiled when the couple reached the bottom of the stairs, but then he immediately shook off his infatuation and turned to Philippe, “my dear brother,” he continued nearly without hesitation.  
Philippe raised an eyebrow, but didn´t comment the surprisingly warm welcome in another way.  
“I´m sorry we´re late,” he said, “but some of us,” there he looked at his wife, “couldn´t find their favorite golden brooch and refused to leave without it.”  
Louis turned to Henriette. “I do hope the hunt was successful.”  
She lowered her stare. “I´m afraid it wasn´t, Your Majesty. It´s gone.”  
“You can borrow some from your husband,” Louis shrugged and looked at his brother cheerily, “I think he has quite many of them.”  
“A kingly solution indeed,” said Philippe sarcastically while his wife chuckled, “may I ask what caused your unexpectedly good mood? I´d prepare myself better next time.”  
“It reminds me, brother,” said Louis instead of the answer, “I need to talk with you.” Then he turned to the Queen: “Would you mind to take a carriage with Henriette?”  
“Of course not, husband.”

***

Before the royal family met in the entrance hall, Philippe took his time with picking shoes that would match his green coat the best. He decided he needed new ones.  
After he was finally finished he went for his wife expecting to find her ready and maybe a little annoyed, but –  
“What are you doing?” he gasped when found her door opened and the room messed up like never before. Three of Henriette´s ladies were just turning the chamber upside down and the head of their mistress was currently under the table.  
Philippe cleared his throat. “Henriette?”  
His wife crawled out from under the table and looked at him. “What?”  
“Well... what are you doing?”  
“I´ve lost a brooch!” she keened. She was coiffured and made-up, but dressed only in her petticoat. Philippe guessed that she decided to change when she realized her loss. “It was my favorite! The golden wren with a diamond. It was a birthday gift from your brother and now it´s gone!”  
Philippe sighed and asked: “Where it was when you last saw it?”  
“I don´t know! I wear it always!”  
Her husband avoided the answer which suggested itself and turned to one of the ladies.  
“You. What´s your name?”  
She stopped and curtseyed a little. “Angelique, Your Royal Highness.”  
“Dress your lady,” he ordered, “we´re late already.”  
Angelique hurried to carry out the command, but Henriette suddenly burst out: “Did you take a look under the bed?”  
“No, my lady.”  
“Then go!”  
“For God´s sake!” Philippe blurted out, he grabbed her dress off the floor and held it out.  
“In,” he ordered and his voice didn´t allow any hesitation.  
Henriette frowned, but obeyed and stepped in. Her husband quickly got her arms and the fluffy sleeves of her petticoat into the right place, her shoulders as well and started to lace her up. In this moment he thanked God for his experiences with ladies dress.  
In a blink of an eye she was fully dressed.  
“You look beautiful,” said Philippe, “we can go.”  
“But the brooch...”  
“I´ll buy you a new one,” he promised and almost dragged his wife to the corridor.  
“But I liked the old one.” She finally gave up and let him lead her. Her ladies followed.  
“Very well, I´ll have them make the same.”  
They went quietly for some time, before Philippe broke a silence.  
“Did you sleep well this night?”  
“Quite, thank you,” Henriette smiled, “but I´ve heard you didn´t.”  
Philippe frowned. “Excuse me?”  
“I overheard a maid,” his wife explained, “she said you spent nearly all night with the Chevalier.”  
Philippe made an attempt to swallow the big guilty plug in his throat, looked into her eyes and nodded.  
“The cards again? Did you win at least?”  
Her eyes were innocent and curious and he nodded again. This moment reminded him of his and Henriette´s wedding night which consisted of an hour of talking, one quick obligatory consummation and the long disconcerted silence. Maybe he should have told her on that very night, but... it was enough for him to take her virginity, he simply didn´t have the heart to take her innocence as well. He knew he loved her in his own way and no one would be happier than me, Philippe thought, if she was my sister. A girl to protect and keep from harm – and not a girl whose naive dreams of love and a happy family I´ll have to shatter. Every time he embraced his love the Chevalier he thought about Henriette. And every time he went to her bed, he thought about him. I have to tell her, Philippe decided, soon. Today? In the carriage? Maybe. To be over with it.  
They already heard the voices of people in the entrance hall.  
“We´ll have to talk later,” Philippe said with his throat still closed. They went down the staircase and he noticed King was already downstairs. So was the Queen and his mother.  
“Why not now?” smiled Henriette.  
“It´s complicated subject. We´ll talk later.”  
Philippe was a little surprised as Louis immediately went towards them and smiled.  
“My dear brother!”  
I bet he wants something, came Philippe to a conclusion, definitely.  
“I´m sorry we´re late,” he said, “but some of us,” there he looked at Henriette who made an offended face, “couldn´t find their favorite golden brooch and refused to leave without it.”  
Louis turned to Henriette. “I do hope the hunt was successful.”  
“I´m afraid it wasn´t, Your Majesty. It´s gone.”  
“You can borrow some from your husband, I think he has quite many of them.”  
“A kingly solution indeed,” Philippe´s mood couldn´t certainly be described as playful, “may I ask what caused your unexpectedly good mood? I´d prepare myself better next time.”  
“It reminds me, brother,” and the sudden serious tone. Here we go, he wants something, “I need to talk with you.” Then he turned to the Queen: “Would you mind to take a carriage with Henriette?”  
“Of course not, husband.”  
After King turned his back, his brother sighed. It seems Henriette will have to wait for a truth for a little longer.

***

The carriages soon left Paris and headed through the woods to the village of Versailles. The King enjoyed the view of the trees and sudden cleaner air, untainted by the smoke of Parisian chimneys, while explaining to his brother concept of freshly minted fiscal system.  
“... but mother always says that such a change of taxation would be far too radical for our tax collectors to comprehend and people would... you´re not listening, are you?” Louis frowned on his brother whose look was indeed a little spaced-out.  
“Oh... I am,” Philippe replied, “but I do not see any reason why you even bother, if mother is against it. It will be the way she and Fouquet want it to be.”  
Louis slowly nodded. “Yes, Fouquet´s really a pain in the neck. I think he´s eager to gain something of the late Mazarin´s power. That is what France needs,” he added ironically, “yet another man in the lead. Tell me...”  
“Yes?”  
“If you had a quadriga, brother, what would happen if each of the horses tried to go his own way?”  
Philippe raised an eyebrow. “I´d probably dismiss the stableman.”  
“Cooperate!”  
“The chariot wouldn´t move.”  
Louis smiled. “Exactly.”  
Philippe waited for some further explanation and as it didn´t come, he said: “Get rid of Fouquet then, you have other people you can trust.”  
“Yes, I know,” King nodded, “Colbert already had the Cardinal´s trust and he seems to me a-”  
“You know what I mean, brother. You know I´d always pull the chariot with you.”  
“You would make a tolerable horse, brother, but I need someone who won´t sleep while others are trying to solve the tax problems.”  
Philippe just snorted and turned away, gazing out the window.  
“But now, why I wanted you here,” said Louis after a while.  
His brother looked at him once again. “I guess for the divine pleasure my company brings you.”  
“No.”  
“Oh.”  
“The thing is, our mother told me she had spoken with Henriette. You don´t sleep with her very often.”  
“You mean with mother or Henriette?”  
“Stop it.”  
Philippe threw his hands up. “What do you want me to say? She has nothing to complain about. I pay her more attention than most husbands do. Just the day before yesterday I took her out for a walk.”  
“That would be quite sufficient if she was a dog, brother.”  
“I never wanted to marry her, you know that.”  
“The world would be quite different if we did only what we wanted. And you could end up far worse,” Louis added, “Henriette is a beautiful woman.”  
“She´s hardly more than a girl.”  
“And that´s hardly your biggest problem, isn´t it?”  
Philippe was slowly losing calmness, his voice raised a little. “I´m really not sure if you´re the right person to give me advice in the matters of marriage. If you notice, there are not three women at court all carrying my child concurrently.”  
Louis made a face, but the tone of his voice came cold. “I could think about a reason or two why. Or your friend the Chevalier can do it for me.”  
“Nobody knows about me and the Chevalier,” Philippe reminded.  
“My dear brother, everybody knows about you and the Chevalier. Maybe except your wife.”  
A sudden earsplitting bang stopped Philippe from answering. The brothers quickly looked at each other. The neighing of startled horses and loud man´s shouts resonated the air.  
“An attack!”  
“There!”  
“Guards! Protect the king!”  
There were a several shots from the pistols of the king´s guard and then another which shook the carriage. Louis would even swear he heard the cracking wood.  
Philippe gasped and bit his lip while Louis pressed his lips together and tried to see what´s going on out there.  
Another few shots and then silence.  
“Stay in the carriage, Your Majesty,” exclaimed the captain from the outside, “it´s still not safe.”  
“I can see that,” said Louis with annoyance so quietly only Philippe could hear.  
He did not answer.  
Louis looked at him, confused. “Brother?”  
Philippe sat still, his eyes wide open and face pale. His fingers were clenching the edge of the seat. Suddenly he slightly lurched and grabbed the seat even firmer, like he was afraid to fall. Louis was quite bewildered before he noticed a dark wet stain slowly growing ten inches under his brother´s left arm. He gasped, swallowed a silent scream and quickly pulled Philippe´s coat apart to reveal an expensive silk shirt soaked with blood, which immediately dirtied king´s own sleeves. It was hot, thick and glutinous. Louis stared like he could not comprehend what that means and narrowly caught his brother just before Philippe fell on the carriage floor.

***  
Almost everyone was out of their carriages and the road was filling up with people discussing the events of the last two minutes. Their excited voices resembled the sound of a flock of birds.  
The soldiers were just getting out of the bushes, where they looked for another attackers.  
“The road is safe,” announced captain to Queen Anne, who impatiently waited next to her carriage. Nothing could hold her in.  
Bontemps immediately headed to the king´s carriage, followed by Anne and several guards.  
“Your Majesty,” he said loudly, “the road is secured.”  
He knocked and opened the coach door.  
All the people who saw the picture inside the royal carriage agreed, that they´ll surely never forget it.  
The King was kneeling on the floor, clasping the Duke of Orleans, who lifelessly lay across the seat. Both were soiled by blood which was dripping off king´s brother´s shirt. Louis did not call for help. His face was maybe even paler than Philippe´s and his eyes were widened in horror.  
Anne crossed herself and Bontemps, panic stricken, blurted out: “Are you hurt, sire?”  
Louis did not answer, he didn´t even look at them.  
“People cannot see this,” Anne whispered to the guards, her eyes fixed on her sons, “get them back into the carriages. And fetch a physician, quickly!”  
Then she went forward. “Louis,” she said vehemently, “are you hurt?”  
No answer, Bontemps and Anne exchanged concerned glances.  
Bontemps got into the carriage and gently touched king´s shoulder. “Sire,” he whispered, “you need a physician.”  
Louis slowly turned his head towards the valet. “Not me,” he uttered quietly.  
Bontemps nodded. “Very well. Your brother needs a physician. Come with me. It will be Safe I promise. Just come out the carriage.”  
The Valet slowly took Louis´s hands down from Philippe and helped his king out.  
A Physician was already there and quickly took king´s place.  
“People are watching,” reminded Anne to her son, so he took a deep breath and showed his calm and unharmed face to all the bystanders. 

 

***

“I´ll never let him in my carriage again,” said Louis angrily, leaning against the table, “never again.”  
They were back in Louvre, in a council chamber. Nothing is this moment showed what happened just a little more than hour ago. King was unharmed, washed and cleanly dressed. Queen Anne was also in the room, the king´s ministers and the head of security Guy Cloutier.  
“Calm yourself,” his mother said directly and turned to Cloutier, “well? What do you have?”  
“There were three attackers, Your Majesty,” he started, “we´ve captured two of them, the third one is dead, shot by one of the guardists. I´ve carried out the interrogation. It seems they didn´t act on anyone´s command, they´re simple lunatics who think the king should pay for the suffering of his subjects. They see themselves as a martyrs of a greater good. We can thank God that they did not succeed.”  
“Tell me, Cloutier,” Louis interrupted him, a little cold smile on his lips, “as my head of security - wouldn’t it be better, if they simply didn´t get a chance to succeed?”  
“Yes, Your Majesty- ”  
“Because as I see it, you had at your disposal more than enough men and yet those simple lunatics, as you say, those martyrs of a greater good somehow got themselves muskets, waited for my carriage and then shot my own brother!”  
“This is really an unforgivable failure,” Anne joined the discussion, “lunatics or not, two feet aside and the king of France would be dead! We can indeed thank God, but I´m not willing to put my son´s safety into the Almighty´s hands only. You leave your position at once, I believe we can find a man, whose abilities will be more fitting our expectations. And about those lunatics, I want them executed at once.”  
“No,” said Louis all the sudden. Everyone looked at him with surprise and they saw nothing but cold anger in king´s eyes, “I do not wish them executed now,” Louis continued, “If they want to be martyrs, we´ll at least grant their wish properly. I want them regret they were ever born. And now I believe you will excuse me.”

***

In the anteroom of Philippe´s chamber Louis bumped into Antoine Vallot, the royal physician, an old grey-haired man for whom this was a second generation of Bourbons to treat.  
“Well?” king asked before the old man could even take a breath.  
Vallot bowed. “Your Majesty.”  
In the moment door opened and a servant came out, holding an armful of dirty sheets, cloths and clothes. The air was immediately filled by the smell of blood and something not so easily named – some subconsciously felt cognizance that someone near is close to death. Louis could not explain how he knew – he simply knew.  
“Why aren´t you in there, monsieur Vallot?” asked Louis. “My brother needs you.”  
“There is nothing I can do for him, sire, I- ”  
The king did not wait for him to finish the sentence, quickly passed him by and entered Philippe´s bedroom followed by Bontemps.  
He stopped in surprise because the first thing he saw was a middle aged man in dirty apron washing his instruments in a bowl of something, which according to smell could be alcohol.  
When he spotted the king, man left his work and bowed deeply.  
“Your Majesty,” Vallot´s voice was heard behind Bontemps´s back. Men let him in and he continued: “As I said, there was nothing I could do for him, sire, for I have little practical experience with gunshots. This is monsieur Forez, a skilful physician and my personal friend. He served twenty years of his career in Your Majesty´s army and he´s quite familiar with this sort of injury. I took him as my assistant to ensure Monsieur gets the best care possible.”  
Louis nodded. “If your care bares fruit, monsieur Forez, it will be well rewarded.”  
Then his attention skipped from both physicians to the motionless body on the bed.  
“I gave him strong dose of laudanum, sire,” explained Vallot quietly, “he´s not in pain.”  
“Will he be alright?”  
Physicians exchanged glances and it was Forez who answered: “Sire, the shot was fired from the musket. The assassin was about thirty yards far from his target, firing from the ground. The bullet reached the carriage, penetrated the wood and the cushioned backrest. This slowed the velocity so when the projectile got to His Royal Highness, it didn´t cause such a damage to the surrounding tissue. By the lucky coincidence the bullet didn´t hit His Royal Highness directly, only scratched his left-side flank an inch and half under the lowest rib.”  
Louis raised an eyebrow and slowly said: “You´re telling me that this,” he pointed at unconscious Philippe, “is just a scratch?”  
“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty, but I did not say just,” emphasized Forez, “It´s a scratch from a musket bullet. Its energy has torn the skin and destroyed the layers of muscle underneath. The wound itself is about ten inches long and wide one to four inches. I tried to clean the wound and sew the muscle the best I could.”  
“I thank you for the lecture, doctor,” said Louis impatiently, “but my question remains. Will he be alright?”  
“Your Majesty... in the moment I cannot say. There are three dangers I fear the most.”  
“Which are?”  
“The first one is His Royal Highness´s blood loss, but he is young and healthy, so we must hope for the best. Personally I´m more worried about something else. Abdominal injuries such as this are associated with high incidence of internal damage. I examined the abdomen and there is no heavy internal bleeding, of that I´m quite sure, but it can appear in hour or two. The bullet maybe went in superficially, but the transferred pressure could easily tear His Royal Highness´s peritoneum, spleen, abdominal vessels or his intestines.”  
There was a tense silence for a while.  
Louis swallowed strenuously. “So... if it happened?”  
“In that case I´m afraid there is nothing anyone can do. If it happened, His Royal Highness won´t survive till morning. We have to wait to see. ”  
“Well...,” said Bontemps unexpectedly, “we have no certainty it happened. We have to hope for the best.”  
“Indeed,” Vallot nodded gratefully, “of course if His Royal Highness survives the night we have to hope a secondary inflammation won´t appear there.”  
“That´s the third thing,” Forez agreed, “it would cause a fever, festering and poisoning which leads to...”  
“Death,” Louis finished the sentence. “Thank you, doctor. It seems we have to hope for many things. If there is nothing more you can do now, you may go inform my mother and the Duchess of Orleans.”  
Both doctors bowed and left, there was only Bontemps, the king and his brother. Louis approached the bed to see him. Philippe looked like he could be dead already, he lay indifferent in his unconsciousness and laudanum-induced sleep. His skin was pale, wax-like and cold to touch. The shadows under his eyes were dark and his eyelids looked like made of thin paper.  
“Sire,” Bontemps mumbled, “you have to leave now.”  
“Just a moment.”  
The king looked at his brother once again and with a little smile fixed Philippe´s hair.

***

It was night. Louis lay on his bed in complete silence yet he did not sleep. He listened. Finally the sound he waited for – a deep, regular breaths from Bontemps´s low bed.  
Quickly and silent like a shadow Louis got up, took up his dressing gown and a candle. A few quiet steps, one, two, three-  
“Sire?”  
Louis swore inaudibly and turned around to face his valet, who swiftly got out of bed.  
“Nothing happens, Bontemps,” he forced a smile, “I was just... eh...”  
Bontemps looked at him, paying special attention to the dressing gown and candle, and sigh. “Sire, protocol demands that the king cannot be anywhere near a dying person.”  
“Good,” Louis nodded, “because there isn´t any. I´m simply going to visit my brother.”  
“Sire, it is my duty to ensure-”  
“Since when the kings take commands from their valets, Bontemps?” barked Louis.  
“Since one of valet´s duties was to take care of the king´s whereabouts, sire,” retorted Bontemps.  
After a little silence Louis said: “But how can you be aware of my whereabouts during your sleep?”  
“I can always wake up, sire,” responded Bontemps, “I have quite light sleep.”  
“And in case you slept deeply one night?”  
“That would be an unforgivable neglecting of my duties, sire.”  
“And if your employer had forgiven you?”  
Bontemps narrowed his eyes and slowly said: “Well... in that case I suppose I would sleep all night while having no idea where my king is or what he does.”  
“This can happen sometimes, can´t it?” Louis asked.  
“Maybe it could,” Bontemps nodded, “and if that´s all, allow me to wish you good night.”  
“Good night, Bontemps.”  
The Valet lay down on the bed again and fell asleep suspiciously quickly. Louis smiled and left the room. 

***

Louis´s heart was beating nearly in his throat while he was creeping through the dark corridors. Nothing new, many times in his life he visited chambers of many women this way, but now, for the first time he really felt he was doing something forbidden. It occurred to him that he feels guiltier about breaking rules of the protocol than the sixth of Ten Commandments. Or maybe it was his inner tremble caused by the fear of what he might find at the end of his walk. To sit next to Philippe all night... and if he gets worse... do I really want to watch him die? He nearly turned back, but then he gritted his teeth and moved on.

***

Henriette sat in an armchair next to her husband´s bed and dozed. She had gladly offered to watch over him whilst he slept. But after some time it became more boring than she expected. The one candle placed on the table provided just enough light to chase away complete darkness, but it didn´t disturb her dreaming. From time to time she opened her eyes and had a brief look at her husband. In the candlelight he seemed to be at death´s door. Henriette realized she had never seen death, not that close.  
And I won´t, she affirmed to herself, for he will not die. She couldn´t even imagine it. Since she was three years old and came over from England they had been close. Her cousin Philippe, loyal companion of many childhood games, sometimes a little eccentric, especially while surrounded by those friends of his. But when they were together, just the two of them, she could tell him anything – about the dress she wanted to wear, about what game she wanted to play, about theatre, paintings, about what kind of man she would like to marry. One was for sure – she would never imagine the man would be him. And he didn´t expect that either.  
She frowned at the candle like it was responsible for that. And she would never admit, not to herself and not to anyone, she was glad for this marriage. Yes, Henriette thought, he is a better husband than many, there is nothing wrong or maybe... I am wrong.  
She looked at her husband, his gentle, handsome face, yes, she found him handsome, but not like... the other one. The man whose features she always tried to find in the face of her husband. How it is, that one simple glance from Louis, one word or one smile ignites her fire the way Philippe´s embrace in their bed never can? She tried not to think about it, it´s not right to think about it when Philippe... Henriette shivered, reached for his hand and forced herself to dream about him, not the king, but her mind was not willing to be harnessed. There was a fire in him, in her king, that´s it. Henriette always felt it, since she stopped being a child. Some strange energy, maybe the life itself was gushing from every single inch of his body. Sometimes she would be content just to sit in a corner and watch him whatever he was doing. He didn´t even have to look at her, but every time he did, his gaze nearly burned a hole right into her soul and made it hurt, in pain, naked and shivering. Who could compare a glow like this to Philippe´s kind, deflecting look which was like a balm to the soul, yet unable to warm up. Henriette closed her eyes and pictured Louis, her king, in a garden, surrounded by the white roses. Scent of blossom filled the air with sweetness. She was there too, dressed in her most beautiful brocade gown, shining like a diamond, amongst her jewels a little golden brooch – a wren. A flock of these birds was circling above their heads and her king stretched out his hand to her. She went down on her knees, ready to kiss it, but then he knelt into the grass as well and kissed her lips. Gently at first, then he became more pressing – held her tight while he kept kissing her, then he untied her corset and sank his face between her breasts. She tilted her head back and gave a gasp as she felt the king´s hand searching through numerous underskirts for her honeypot. Finally he found it and his hand only forced Henriette to give out dazzled groans. Then his manhood intervened and she screamed in orgasm, while Louis repeated again and again: “Henriette... Henriette... Henriette...”  
“Henriette,” repeated Louis and touched her shoulder. She was sleeping in the chair next to her husband´s bed. Her chair had tilted a little too much in her sleep and there was a risk she would fall, it took a while until he managed to wake her.  
“Sire...,” Henriette whispered and looked everywhere for Louis or Philippe, “how... how long were you there?”  
Louis was sitting on a stool he had pushed towards the bed. Henriette wanted to cede her armchair to him, but his gesture stopped her.  
“This isn´t official,” he whispered, “I shouldn´t be here.”  
“Well,” Henriette smiled a little and looked at Philippe, “none of us should.”  
Louis stretched out his hand to his brother and caressed his cheek. The hand stopped in front of his nose and mouth. A weight was lifted from Louis´ heart when he felt Philippe´s weak irregular breath.  
“We can only pray,” Henriette whispered.  
“Yes,” Louis nodded and took her hand while still watching Philippe in a dim candlelight, “we can only pray.”

***

While Henriette dreamed her dream and Louis left Bontemps and went to join her vigil, the palace chapel was dark and cold. A mild draught rippled the frills of the altar cloth and wailed next to the windows. The door suddenly creaked and Queen Anne entered, followed by the two of her ladies. She was fully dressed, but the sound of her bare feet on the stone floor made a strange echo in the deafening silence. Her ladies sat in the pews while she slowly walked right to the altar, knelt on front of it and crossed herself.  
“Hail Mary, full of Grace,” she whispered, “the Lord is with thee. Blessed are thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen. Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed are thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen. Hail Mary, full of grace,” Anne continued, bent down and kissed the cold floor, “you did not let me down, when I begged thee to give me children, now I beseech you, look down upon my son with mercy. Holy Mary, Mother of God, protect my son Philippe in his time of need. Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed are thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God...”

***

Louis and Henriette had to light another candle. They were slowly becoming used to this strange situation and the suspense of the last hours had started to evaporate. They talked and kept their voices so low they had to sit with their heads close to each other.  
Louis just whispered something to Henriette and she giggled. “How can I remember, sire, I was four years old!”  
He smiled. “True. Well, you can imagine my excitement, but the problem was that Philippe wanted to go as well. Sadly he was too small for a proper horse– so he said he´ll hunt on his pony!”  
Both burst into laughter and quickly silenced it, yet unable to stop, so the resulting sound resembled a nest of mice.  
“I think I remember the pony,” blurted Henriette, “ a beige, sad creature, wasn´t it?”  
“Yes,” Louis nodded, “Philippe called it Lucifer at first, before stableman told him it´s a girl.”  
“Did he change the name then?”  
“Just a little. It became Madame Lucifer.” The memory gave a lively sparkle in Louis’ eyes and Henriette couldn´t help laugh again.  
But the laugh didn´t last for long. “I remember how devastated he was when the pony died,” she mumbled, “even though he had another horse for quite a time.”  
“The first horse is like a first love,” said Louis, “you never forget.”  
Henriette smiled. “Who was your first love, sire?”  
Louis did not respond, just gave her a little smile, then his eyes skipped to his brother and back again.  
“I guess after his pony died, the only Madame in his life is you,” he said after a while.  
Henriette shrugged. “Sometimes I feel he would rather have his pony back.”  
“Nonsense,” Louis opposed her immediately, “he´s... he´s very fond of you. You´re his brightest jewel, I know that much.”  
“And that is the problem,” Henriette sighed in the fit of sincerity, “he would keep me in a box if he could, pick me up to look at on rare occasions and then put me back again and forget me. Even when we are in bed-” She stopped here and bit her lip. “I´m sorry, Your Majesty.”  
“It´s alright, you can tell me.”  
She shook her head. “Better not, sire. And in any case there´s not much to talk about.”  
He pressed and caressed her hand and said quietly: “You´re very dear to him. And to me.”  
She looked into his eyes and he suddenly got up.  
Henriette´s heart missed a few beats then she asked: “Is anything wrong, sire?”  
“It is,” said Louis stiffly, he went around the bed and sat at the edge of Philippe´s mattress.  
The suspense was restored and from that moment the bedroom was in complete silence once again – just the king, Henriette and Philippe between them.

***

The next morning the chamber was in peace.  
Henriette fell asleep shortly after Louis moved away. He stayed awake for a little longer, but the first beam of the new day´s light reached him sleeping as well. He was sitting on the floor and his head was resting on his arms laid on the bed.  
He opened his eyes suddenly and for a split second he wondered what happened. And the first thing he saw were blue eyes like his, staring at him. The eyes were a little baffled, but trusting and calm, like they were watching sleeping Louis for longer than a while, but needed nothing more.  
“Philippe,” Louis whispered and held back the crazy need to throw his arms around brother´s neck, “thank God... thank God...”  
Philippe didn´t respond, he seemed to have strength for nothing but the puzzled stare. His pupils were still narrowed due to laudanum. Louis was nearly afraid to touch him, so weak and fragile Philippe appeared to be.  
“Henriette!” Louis got up and whispered without even realizing it. “Henriette!”  
She opened her eyes, but in the same moment Philippe´s lips moved and Louis bent over him to hear.  
“Brother,” muttered Philippe under his breath, “will I die?”  
“Surely at some point,” Louis said, “but as I´m the older one, hopefully I won´t be there to see it.”  
Philippe slightly smiled. His lips were dry and chapped and his forehead, as Louis found out when he touched it, burning.  
Henriette got up, but stayed silent and watched a focused Louis listening to what Philippe had to say. The King´s face frowned when he straightened up.  
She went around the bed and approached her husband, but he was sleeping again, so she turned to Louis: “What did he want?”  
“He wanted to see someone,” king slowly responded, “two people, actually. His confessor...”  
“Oh, God,” mumbled Henriette.  
“... and Chevalier de Lorraine.”  
Henriette frowned. “Chevalier? But... why? Nothing else, about... me? He doesn´t want to see me?”  
“I´m sure if he knew-”  
“Yes,” Henriette interrupted him, “but now, since he´s not dying anymore, if Your Majesty excuses me, I have to change and I have some letters to write.”  
She curtseyed and quickly left the chamber, almost crashing into Bontemps who was on his way in.  
“Sire-“ The Valet started, but Louis interrupted him.  
“Bontemps! Get me Vallot and Chevalier de Lorraine,” he ordered and looked at Philippe, “he doesn´t seem to be in a fit state to make a confession, so there´s no need to wake Bossuet so early.”  
Bontemps nodded and left.

 

***

Chevalier de Lorraine came first and deeply bowed when saw the king.  
“Your Majesty wishes me here?”  
Louis pressed his lips together and watched the Chevalier in the silence. “I do not,” he answered after a while, “but someone else does. Go to him.”  
The Chevalier bowed for the second time and quickly headed to Philippe´s bed. There he sat on it and took his lover´s hand. Philippe opened his eyes, smiled, the Chevalier kissed his hand and whispered something.  
Louis turned to the window for he had no need to see the rest.  
Luckily for him, the doctor appeared within fifteen minutes, followed by his assistant, Bontemps, Queen Anne and two of her ladies. The Chevalier withdrew to the background.  
Vallot was pleased to see his patient alive and awake. Under supervision of all royal bystanders he decided to change the soaked bandages and clean the wound.  
“It may hurt,” he warned Philippe who just made a face in answer and received a full spoon of bitter laudanum from Vallot´s assistant.  
This precaution however didn´t avert the pain entirely. What´s more, after Vallot took down the bandages, the need appeared to cut off the pieces of a dead tissue.  
Vallot took a little wood block and put it into Philippe´s mouth.  
“Bite this.”  
Then he took a knife and pincers and started working.  
Before the doctor finished, Philippe was covered in sweat and shivering in agony, although his senses were dulled. His face was dead white, maybe even a little greenish.  
During the procedure Anne´s ladies disappeared, Anne herself held a lace handkerchief in front of her mouth, Louis´ face was sculpted and the Chevalier pretended there was something extremely interesting outside the window.  
“Well, doctor?” Anne asked immediately after Vallot turned away from Philippe.  
“It seems there is no damage to the intestines which is good, however I noticed swelling and edema around the wound, which causes the fever. This can be a dangerous condition.”  
“How will you treat it?” asked Anne.  
“Bloodletting, Your Majesty. Reliable and very effective method.”  
“Bloodletting?” Louis interrupted him.  
“Yes, Your Majesty.”  
“But he was bleeding just yesterday! And you put quite an effort into stopping it.”  
“So much is true, sire,” said Vallot, “but the fever is caused by the bad blood in the veins of His Royal Highness. We need to get it out.”  
Louis exchanged glances with his mother and it was her who nodded. Vallot gave a nod to his assistant who immediately stretched out Philippe´s arm, uncovered the forearm and elbow pit and then placed a large bowl under it. The veins shined through the thin translucent skin and reminded of a blue web. The assistant took a fleam, from its blades chose the most fitting, placed it over the vein and struck it with a fleam stick. The dark blood spurted out from under the tool and then flew out in a stream. Philippe was watching the beginning of the procedure but as the blood slowly filled the bowl, his head fell deeper into the pillow and his eyes closed.  
“As I see it, this may be enough for now,” said Vallot after a while. Everyone in the room couldn´t but agree.  
“This new type of fleams,” Vallot showed the bloodied instrument to the audience while his assistant was closing the incision, “is the latest invention in technology of phlebotomy. They provide a rapid penetration of the vein with minimal destruction of the subcutaneous tissues. That is important in minimizing the formation of hematoma. For Your Majesty´s brother, sire, I have only the best. I expect an improvement of his condition in a short time.”  
Louis did not answer, he just took a look over Vallot´s shoulder towards his brother, who was too unconscious for sharing his opinion about such a prognosis.  
“I believe he should rest now,” said Anne to fill the silence, “alone.”  
This was a command and everyone obeyed, including Louis.  
Anne stayed with her younger son after everyone left. She watched him for a while, then she came to him, sat down in the Henriette´s chair and took Philippe´s hand, cold as ice.  
“All will be well, my little lamb,” she whispered, “all will be well...”

***

Louis felt a little thorn of irritation when he realized Anne stayed there. He doubted she would do such a thing for him, her firstborn. All the twenty five years of his life he had her full attention, her advices, support, the best teachers and anything king could have, but Philippe was her pet, her darling, her “little princess” as she sometimes called him. Suddenly he remembered a moment – he must have been six or seven – Mazarin took him for a council meeting early in the morning and filled his head with lecturing about the importance of being a king who is more than just a puppet in the hand of others and what happens if you fail. The group of serious men dressed in dark colors were speaking with mother and Mazarin for hours about things he did not understand, yet he sat still and listened, following the lesson that the true king should always appear wise and regal, never show weakness or exhaustion.  
Finally it was over and he followed mother into her chambers where they found Philippe surrounded by Anne´s ladies playing with him. He was dressed in a girl´s clothes and the ladies were giggling, feeding him with sweets and trying new and new jewels, make-up or silk ribbons on him.  
“Mummy!” Philippe exclaimed happily, run to her and jumped into her arms. Anne laughed and kissed both his cheeks. Then she put him back on floor and squatted down to him.  
“How is my little princess today?” she asked, smiling.  
“Good. I drew a picture, mummy, can I show you?”  
“Of course, show me!”  
A sudden move next to the window roused Louis from his memories and he realised Henriette stood there, in the anteroom which she probably hadn’t left. She seemed lost in her own mind as well, staring at the courtyard outside and listening to the sound of raindrops. Until now Louis didn´t even realize it was raining.  
He went to her and joined her in silence.  
Finally she said: “How is my husband, sire?”  
“The Doctor does everything he can,” Louis answered, “I believe we´ll see the results soon enough.”  
Louis´ heart was beating faster when he was so close to her and he intentionally came even closer so his hand could touch a fabric of Henriette´s wide skirt. It seemed she didn´t notice it.  
“Sire...,” she said and her throat tightened, “... can I ask you something? A... personal question?”  
Louis raised an eyebrow and said: “Saint Augustine teaches us that only a false answer is forbidden, never a question. What is the matter?”  
Henriette smiled but her uneasiness seemed to grow. “Sire... am I wrong woman?”  
Louis frowned. “Wrong woman? What do you mean?”  
“Well... my husband lies behind this door. I should have been worried about him and I am, but at the same time I´m... angry and jealous. That is wrong, isn´t it?”  
“You´re jealous that he didn´t call for you today?”  
“He never calls for me unless he has to,” said Henriette bitterly and her words started to flow like water from a broken dam, “he always spends time with his friends until night and even after he returns, he rarely visits my chambers and when he does, I can see he takes no delight in it. I would do anything to please him, but he never seems satisfied. His mind is never with me, I asked him what should I do, but he just...,” she shrugged, “he said that I do well, but somehow I know I don´t!”  
“Henriette-”  
“I would never ask any of my ladies, I don´t want the whole court to know that I´m not content for I know I should be. You´ve arranged this marriage, sire, and I´m grateful, really-”  
“Henriette,” Louis interrupted her, “listen to me.”  
He reached out to tilt her chin to the side to look directly into her eyes.  
“There is nothing wrong with you, do you hear me?” he said emphatically. “You are an adornment to this court, you´re winsome, bright, and the most beautiful woman I´ve ever seen. Any husband would be lucky to have you, but my brother... my brother is not like other men. Believe, it´s... it´s not your fault that you cannot please him.” Louis would prefer to be in any other place but this or discuss any other topic but this, but some things are necessary to be done.  
Henriette frowned. “I don´t understand, sire, he´s not...” she lowered her voice, “...he´s not, well, you know, incapable of... that.”  
Louis bit his lip and turned to the window again. He was rarely discomfited, but now his ears burned red.  
“That´s not what I meant,” he said quickly, “I´m sure my brother is completely... capable, but he prefers the company of men.”  
“Yes, I noticed.”  
“In bed.”  
For a few seconds Henriette just stared at him in stony silence before she let out something between gasp and laugh. “He is... but... no... how can they...”  
“He shares a bed with Chevalier de Lorraine,” said Louis quickly before she could ask for some details he really didn´t want to discuss further, “for the last three years.”  
Louis watched Henriette, whose face changed emotions quickly like clouds during windy day. Skeptical, doubting, sad, disgusted, horrified and over and over again. She stepped back from Louis, her beautiful eyes widened, not knowing what to say or what to do.  
“I believe you´re tired after the sleepless night,” said Louis kindly but with supremacy, “you should go to wash your face and change clothes. We´ll see each other at dinner.”  
Henriette curtseyed and quickly left so Louis couldn´t see her face. He stayed in the room and looked out from the window for a while before he realized Bontemps watches him – and that he was in the room during whole conversation.  
“Not a word about this to anyone,” pointed Louis his finger at valet and stormed out of the room. He even didn´t know about whom he was angry – Bontemps, mother, himself, Philippe, the Chevalier or Henriette. Probably all of them.

***

“Then the other took hold of his fearful son and soothingly began in his familiar voice: Eternal splendor, greatest glory of our race, and at last the single hope of our tottering fatherland, stay your fear, and store my words in your unforgetting mind. Behold, the king of Olympus has allotted me a brief hour, which may bring you much pleasure, unless you refuse it...” The Chevalier closed the book and looked at Philippe, “Why do you want me to read you such rubbish?”  
“It´s not rubbish,” said Philippe and closed his eyes, “it´s Petrarch.”  
“Exactly.”  
Philippe smiled a little, but his voice was weak and tired. “What do you know of literature?”  
“Only that much, darling, that if I keep reading I´ll cause you even worse headache than you already have.”  
The Chevalier put the book aside and changed the cold compress on Philippe´s forehead.  
“Talk to me,” asked Philippe, “please.”  
“You need quiet. Doctor´s orders, remember?”  
“Then hold me.”  
The Chevalier took Philippe´s cold hand and felt like a fool. He wasn´t worried just about Philippe, but more about himself. He put two and two together and knew that he would be thrown onto the street before Philippe´s body would even have a chance to get cold. And what´s more he was no type for sitting next to the ill man´s bed. And with the situation as it is, maybe he better go and start packing.  
The quiet lasted a while before the Chevalier noticed Philippe was staring at him.  
The Chevalier raised an eyebrow. “What?”  
“A hundred livres for your thoughts,” said Philippe.  
“You´d lose money on such a trade, sweetheart. I was just thinking about how desirable you are. Yes, I admit you lie here like Lazarus and look like a three weeks old corpse, but... still desirable.”  
Philippe chuckled and contorted his face in pain immediately as his wound reminded itself.  
“Does it hurt much?” The Chevalier asked.  
“It... twitches,” was his quiet answer, “but it´s foggy. Everything is. Talk to me, say anything.”  
Before the Chevalier could obey and start talking, the door opened and doctor entered. His assistant with the tray of instruments and bandages followed. The Chevalier wanted to withdraw, but Philippe grasped his wrist surprisingly quickly.  
“Stay.”  
“Very well, then.” The Chevalier sat back involuntarily.  
In the meantime Vallot rolled down the blanket once again and took off the bandages. The Chevalier turned his eyes to the floor.  
This time the doctor didn´t care about the wound, but its surroundings, which were red, hot and swollen. One place perhaps more than the others and when Vallot pressed it, Philippe cried out from pain.  
“There it is,” mumbled Vallot and took a knife from the tray, “I found an abscess,” he announced to the Chevalier, who wouldn´t care even if Vallot found a nest of butterflies, “some foreign body stayed in the wound, became encapsulated and created a large deposit of pus. Now it will hurt a little, Monsieur.”  
Philippe nodded and the Chevalier took a brief look at the wound just at the moment when Vallot stabbed his knife at a right angle into the swelling. Philippe screamed and pressed the hand of an appalled the Chevalier who watched the flow of thick yellow fluid leaking under the doctor´s knife. After the flow stopped, Vallot pressed around the stab wound and finally pushed out something approximately inch long, pointed and disgusting.  
“A splinter from the carriage,” he said proudly, “this little rogue caused an inflammation. Now everything should be alright.”  
The Chevalier, whose face was now even paler than Philippe´s, got up quickly and left the room for one specific reason.  
Philippe just lay his head down and ignored Vallot cleaning the wound or covering it with bandages.  
After doctor left too, Philippe finally said two words: “Jesus Christ!”

***

Henriette didn´t appear at dinner. Right after the fateful conversation with Louis she went into her chamber and dismissed all her ladies.  
Then she spent the rest of the day either crying, in anger or pacing around the room like a wild beast of prey in a cage which is too small. In some moments she even considered that Louis lied to her, but she brushed away such ideas. She wasn´t stupid and in most of cases she could admit the truth to herself, however painful it was. She felt her life was God´s stupid joke. For three years she was trying to be a good wife, to become the woman of her husband´s dreams. But he has no woman in his dreams. He lied to her when he promised he would love her... he promised and lied!  
When her thoughts got there, it was already night. She didn´t even mind to prepare herself for bed alone, she didn´t want to see anyone.  
Dressed in her white nightgown she brushed her hair in front of the mirror.  
Who am I now, she thought suddenly, and closely watched her own reflection. When she thought she belonged to Philippe, she knew. But I never belonged to him, she realized. So what am I now? Wife and not a wife, French and not French, alone in the crowd, loved and loved not.  
Her reflection answered only by a sad smile and Henriette whispered: “Mirror, mirror on the wall...”  
“Do you really have to ask?”  
Henriette´s heart missed a few beats and she quickly turned around. Louis, also dressed to bed, was standing next to the door, maybe for some time.  
“I didn´t hear you enter, sire,” uttered Henriette, so confused she just froze and watched her king like a wounded bird watches a cat.  
Louis didn´t say anything, just smiled and came to her.  
“May I?” he asked quietly and picked up her hairbrush. Henriette nodded, she lost her composure too much to do anything else.  
The King turned her head back to the mirror and started to gently brush her hair. Henriette watched him in the mirror but after some time she closed her eyes and enjoyed the slow, comforting touch of Louis´ hands and a brush. She felt like its long tender pulling was taking all the sadness, anger and fear away and she sat there and knew she was calm, warm and safe. Only her heart was beating fast and so strong she could nearly hear it.  
It took a long time before Louis caressed her long golden tresses without a brush. He softly touched her hair, neck and shoulders. Henriette started to shiver again, but not from fear. Her body was becoming docile and sensitive and when Louis´ lips finally kissed her bared shoulder, it was like her heart just exploded and all her body was flooded by the boiling blood. Louis, as excited as she was, led his lips from her shoulder to the neck, her ear, cheek but stopped before the lips Henriette spontaneously offered.  
“Do you want this?” he whispered.  
“Yes...”  
Henriette felt his hands undressing her and couldn´t think of anything than the deep warm joy reminding her of the touch of velvet.  
Louis´ lips came closer to hers but they did not kiss yet.  
“Do you want me?” he asked.  
“Yes...”  
Finally their lips touched and Louis kissed her with all the heat, passion and urgency gathered by all those years of watching and dreaming. And Henriette felt like her heart just exploded, her chest expanded and it could barely contain what was inside it. And it was not blood anymore, it was her soul which filled her body from heart to her fingertips. She was weak and she was strong, she could easily fall to his feet, but she would never give up those lips giving her life, new and fresh. Every inch of her body was burning and screaming in pain – she thought she couldn´t bear it any longer but she would kill anyone who´d try to end it.  
She didn´t even realize Louis helped her get up, took off her nightgown and lay her on bed, everything she felt was him, his hands, his lips and suddenly his hard, fiery tool which found his way inside her. Henriette screamed and Louis quickly silenced her by a kiss while he was thrusting his hips again and again and again causing her new and new waves of excitement. And she listened to his breath and his groans in moments when she proved to him she was no less a woman than he was a man.  
After they vented their primary excitement and fell on the bed side by side, Henriette thought it was over, but Louis turned prone and crawled on her.  
“My king-”  
“Hush,” he whispered, “be still.”  
She obeyed and his kisses moved from her lips down, on her collar bones, her neck, her breast. Henriette gasped when he gently sucked and bit her nipples, already swollen by arousal and reminding of two ripened grapes. This was Louis´ favorite part for he had enough women to realize every one of them was special – and he was looking for it. Every new mistress was like a new continent for him, unknown hills, valleys and chasms he had yet to discover, gain and rule. So his fingers, mouth, tongue and teeth were playing with Henriette, who let out nothing but gasps before he got between her legs and kissed and licked while his hands still fondled her bosom.  
“My king!” she cried out. “My... oh... oh... my king!” And she was literally crying, tears ran across her cheeks, she was crying and laughing and crying again, conquered and defenseless.  
“Take me... my king... take me...” she repeated and he obliged, pushed himself up, their lips met and his aroused flesh filled her once again.  
After a long time they calmed down and fell asleep, snuggled to each other like two kittens. They had no fear, because there was no one in the world. No one but them.

Winter 1663  
Although the end of November brought some heavy snow in the city of Paris, it had disappeared during December. Now, with Christmas approaching, there was nothing out there but a few occasional flakes. However, the air was freezing and the thin layer of ice covered the stones and windows. Every household owning a fireplace or stove was using them to their full capacity, resulting in dark smothering smoke causing a cough to many Parisians.  
It was morning and in the palace of Louvre Queen Anne had just entered her younger son´s bedroom and smiled.  
“How is my little baby today?” she asked and went over to him.  
Philippe was sitting on the bed, propped up with pillows. When his mother entered he put aside the book he was reading.  
“Mother, I stopped being your little baby twenty years ago, remember?”  
“You haven´t answered my question, young man,” Anne replied and sat next to him.  
“I´m fine, thank you,” he replied, “Vallot said I could maybe get up tomorrow. I can´t wait for a bath.”  
“Too much water is bad for your lungs, my dear,” Anne cautioned him.  
“To be honest my lungs are not my greatest concern in the moment.”  
“Hush. And speaking of washing that´s why I´m here.”  
Philippe looked over her shoulder and realized the maid behind her was holding a bowl of water and a towel.  
“I did not see that,” said Anne strictly when he rolled his eyes.  
“Mother, do you realize I have servants to do that?” said Philippe and his voice was resigned, because he knew if Anne takes something into her head, there´s no stopping her. The same with Louis.  
“You speak like servants do everything properly,” uttered Anne while tucking up her sleeves and taking a wet washcloth.  
“I´m sure they can manage such things like handing me a piece of cloth.”  
Anne ignored him and started with his face and neck.  
“Mother-”  
“Hush. You wouldn´t want to impede an old woman when she wants to mollycoddle her princess, would you?”  
Philippe thought that even if he could, there wouldn´t be a way to do it. It was always this way, as far as he could remember. She always cared more about Louis, but when Louis wasn´t there... Philippe´s time had come. And even when she praised King Louis in front of everyone, Philippe knew better whom she loves more. He knew very, very well.  
He closed his eyes and remembered how she used to take him to her chambers when he was little to help her dress, for none of her ladies had such small and dexterous fingers, she claimed. He was properly proud of that. He used them often when she returned from the council meeting – then he brushed her hair or massaged her stiffened neck. Sometimes, if time allowed it, they tested perfumes or fans – or even lingerie or light shoes, when she was in the mood to. And when her ladies prepared her a bath, she often allowed him to bathe with her and then they smeared each other with rose oil to keep the skin smooth. That was until he reached the age of ten and Mazarin found him a male tutor. But in free time Philippe always found his way to Anne.  
He hissed when the water reached the wound.  
“Careful there!”  
Anne immediately dried the skin and kissed her sons cheek. He kissed her back and carefully put her loose piece of hair behind the ear.  
“Oh, thank you, my dear,” she smiled and caressed his hair in return. Then she continued with the washcloth and Philippe asked: “Will you have a new dress for the celebrations?”  
“Well-”  
A sudden knock on the door disturbed them and a servant entered.  
“Chevalier de Lorraine,” he announced.  
“Let him in,” answered Anne before Philippe could protest.  
The Chevalier entered the room immediately and the scene before him took him back a little.  
Philippe gasped, snatched the washcloth from his mother´s hand and quickly drew his blanket up. His face was shining red.  
The Chevalier bowed to Anne. “Your Majesty, pleasure to see you.”  
She nodded and the room was suddenly quiet.  
Philippe cleared his throat. “Mother... could you...?”  
Anne reluctantly accepted her son´s request, got up, kissed Philippe´s forehead and left.  
The Chevalier´s face was too indifferent to be plausible. Without a word he sat in the chair Anne left and said: “My mother does it to me all the time.”  
Philippe raised an eyebrow. “You´re joking.”  
“Yes, I am, my dear. But maybe I should finish your mother´s job, where is the cloth?”  
“If you´ll ever speak about it,” whispered Philippe calmly, “I´ll have you strangled in your sleep, I can promise you that.”  
The Chevalier burst into laughter, Philippe joined him and the tension of embarrassment quickly disappeared.  
“I want to show you something,” said Philippe after a while and took out a small box.  
“What´s inside?”  
Philippe opened it dramatically. “What do you think? It looks nice, doesn´t it?”  
“It´s a brooch?” the Chevalier took the jewel out of the box and examined it. “What bird is this?”  
“A wren.”  
“Well, it will suit you undoubtedly, sweetheart.”  
Philippe chuckled. “It´s not for me, it´s for Henriette,” he explained. “The same as the one she lost. I wanted to wait until New Year, but it can be welcome present as well.”  
“I still think it would suit you better, but as you wish,” said the Chevalier, “she´s supposed to return today, isn´t she? She and your brother.”  
Philippe nodded. “I´m glad he took her to Saint Germain. She seemed unwell, two months outside Paris can do a world of good.” He looked through the window and watched the black smoke from chimneys.  
“How very thoughtful of him,” grimaced the Chevalier.  
“What do you mean?”  
“Why are you looking for meanings?” the fair-haired man defended himself. “I simply stated how very thoughtful your brother is that he cares about your wife´s well-being, while his own stayed here in Paris.”  
Before Philippe could answer that, the door opened and Henriette entered.  
“Husband!” she smiled, came to him and kissed his cheek even though Philippe offered his lips. She was dressed in one of her best gowns, her hair carefully coiffured, eyes shining.  
“You look lovely,” Philippe looked at her and smiled, “country air has made you bloom.”  
“Yes,” Henriette agreed, “surely. It lifted my spirit.”  
Philippe nodded. “Close your eyes,” he asked and when she did, he took her hand and placed the brooch there, “and now open them.”  
“Oh God,” Henriette gasped and her eyes widened, “it´s my brooch!”  
“As I promised,” said Philippe, “is it the same? If not I swear I´ll get up from the bed, find that jeweler myself and give him a talking to.”  
“You had it made for me,” mumbled Henriette and her face seemed more sad than pleased.  
Philippe frowned. “What´s going on? Is anything wrong?”  
Henriette forced a smile and kissed Philippe on the lips, this time she gave it everything so Philippe had to push her away after a while for they could easily both die from the lack of air.  
“Henriette!” he breathed out. “What-”  
“I´m so happy to see you,” said Henriette, “and thank you for the brooch, it´s exactly the same, it´s beautiful!”  
And she left.  
The Chevalier raised an eyebrow and looked at Philippe. “What was that supposed to be?”  
“I have no idea,” Philippe wagged his head, “something´s not right.”  
“Maybe she has her Auntie´s visit. I´ve heard some women go crazy.”  
“Not like this,” said Philippe, “believe me.”  
The Chevalier just laughed and bent over the bed.  
“At least let me rectify the situation,” he whispered and kissed Philippe much better than Henriette a minute ago.  
“And as we´re talking about welcome presents,” the Chevalier continued, “I have one for you, in my chambers.”  
“What is it?”  
“Do you think I would tell you? Come and see.”  
Philippe smiled, took the Chevalier´s hand and kissed it.  
“I´ll come,” he promised, “soon.”

***

Even though he promised the Chevalier, it was Henriette that Philippe was thinking about whole day. It was late evening, maybe early night actually, when he finally decided he had to see her.  
Philippe lay in his bed in the darkness and thought it through. Yes, he needed to see her and talk to her. He was quite sure she wouldn´t be in bed yet, he knew her well enough to learn she was a night owl. And he was also sure she waited for him, as always.  
Philippe got up from bed and took the last burning candle. With satisfaction he realized that his freshly healed wound didn´t hurt. Maybe I could sleep with her tonight, crossed Philippe´s mind when he left his room, I haven't done for quite some time and I won´t have a son from just prayers alone.  
He crossed over the corridor, opened his wife´s door and froze on the doorstep.  
Henriette wasn´t sleeping, so much was true. She was kneeling next to her bed, naked, and her mouth was embracing the fully aroused member of the king.  
Philippe stood still like a statue, only his hand with a candle shook a little. His wife didn´t notice him yet, she was turned back to him and what´s more, she seemed to be zealously enjoying the delicious feast in her lover´s crotch and not thinking about anything else, obediently teasing and tasting. Her tresses were dancing on her back like living snakes every time she moved her head. Louis himself was laying on the bed, his legs let down around Henriette, his arms spread out, hands clutching the linen sheet and head tilted back. He was clenching his teeth and moaning in pleasure. This and Henriette´s heavy breath were the only sounds.  
Maybe a sudden cold draught from the corridor warned Louis, maybe Philippe let out some sound, anyway he lifted up his head and looked directly into the eyes of his brother standing in the door. Henriette realized something´s not alright, drew her lips away and turned around.  
The family trio stared one at another, as if time had stopped.  
Philippe gasped soundlessly like a fish pulled out of water several times, unable to say anything, then he quickly made several steps back and shut the door again.  
He didn´t even know how he got back to his chambers, the next thing he remembered was his servant taking away his dressing gown.  
“Your Royal Highness, is everything alright? Monsieur?”  
Philippe did not answer, just sat down on the bed.  
“Monsieur, are you unwell? Should I fetch you the doctor?”  
“Lock the door,” ordered Philippe and his voice was hoarse, “no one enters.”  
“As you wish, sire.” 

***

If Henriette hoped Philippe would pass the night incident over in silence, she realized her mistake next morning, when Philippe entered her room.  
“Leave us,” he ordered and Henriette´s ladies immediately disappeared into the anteroom. Henriette stayed where she was, sitting in the chair with her embroidery.  
Philippe´s face was calm, maybe a little stiff. He didn´t say anything, just turned his back to her and started to arrange the decorations on the chest of drawers.  
“Husband-”  
“Tell me,” Philippe interrupted her, “was I ever unkind to you?”  
“No, you weren´t,” said Henriette quietly and Philippe turned around to see her face.  
“Then did I ever treat you badly in some way?”  
“No, you didn´t,” was the response.  
“Haven´t I given you everything?”  
“Yes, you have.”  
“Have I promised to stand by your side, in good times and bad times, through thick and thin?”  
“Yes, you have.”  
“And did I keep the promise?”  
“No.” This short word was a little louder and more confident.  
Philippe raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”  
Henriette finally looked up from her embroidery into her husband´s eyes.  
For a while there was a thick silence between them.  
“No, you didn´t,” she answered and got up. “If you were by my side for the last three years, I wouldn´t spend my nights crying into my pillow. If you were by my side, you would have some idea! If you were by my side, you would tell me the truth and wouldn´t let me grope in the dark while sleeping with him! Have you any idea how disgusting you are?”  
“The Chevalier has nothing to do with this!” Philippe raised his voice as well.  
“He has everything to do with this!”  
“That is different!”  
“It´s completely the same!”  
“If it escaped your attention, my brother´s also not always in his wife´s bed and I haven´t noticed Marie-Therese ever sucking my cock for it!” Philippe´s face was red by anger.  
“At least I am something for him!” retorted Henriette shouting and few strands of her hair came loose from her chignon.  
Philippe grimaced. “Yes, his whore. One of them, actually.”  
“Better be once his whore than ten times whatever I am to you!”  
“Is it so?” Philippe took a sharp breath. “Then I have some news for you, sweetheart, you are mine, whether you like it or not, do you understand me? Nothing we say and do can change it. Even my brother cannot change that fact that he gave you to me! And if you think it´s not fair, just remember, life´s never fair and the sooner you find it out the better! God bound us together and till death do us part you are my wife!”  
„Your wife? No, I was never your wife for you´ve never been a husband to me!“  
„So this is some stupid revenge of yours?“  
„No!“  
„Then what?“  
„I love him!“  
Philippe slapped her in the face so suddenly Henriette made several steps backwards and her back hit the mantelpiece. A few drops of blood appeared on her lip.  
Philippe just stood there, breathing heavily and watching her. His stare shifted from her eyes to her cleavage.  
“Where´s the wren?” he asked quietly, too guilty to keep shouting and too angry to help her, “you wore it always. Or maybe it´s the right brooch... from the wrong man. I should have guessed. If nothing else I appreciate your sincerity.”  
And he stormed out from the room and banged the door shut.

***

Philippe nearly didn´t see his way. Everything around him was simply red. He knew about her affection towards Louis, he always had known, but how... how could he... how could she...  
He wanted to scream and shout and cry and break something.  
Filled with anger, helplessness, acrimony, bitterness, injustice and many other emotions he couldn´t even name spinning in his head like a swarm of flies, Philippe made his way to the western lounge. He was speeding up, almost breaking into a run.

There was a pleasing, sleepy atmosphere of polite boredom in the western lounge. Thirty to forty courtiers were sitting by the card tables and two violinists were filling in the silence interrupted only by declarations, secret signals and shuffling of cards.  
Suddenly the double-leaf door were thrown open and Philippe was standing there, heavy breathing and red in the face.  
“CHEVALIER!” he shouted.  
The Chevalier, sitting by the table at the very end of the lounge, put down the cards and shouted back: “YES?”  
“COME AND FUCK ME!”  
All the nobles froze in shock. The Chevalier got up and headed to Philippe while others started to clear their throats, whisper, ladies took their fans out and two of them considered their social duty to faint.  
The Chevalier took Philippe´s upper arm and quickly led him into his chambers and closed the door behind them.  
Before he could say something, Philippe urged: “Take me. Now. Do it and make it hurt, for I swear I´m the greatest idiot who ever walked the Earth.”  
The Chevalier realized this was not the right time for questions, grasped Philippe´s shoulders and flung him onto bed.  
“And silence!” he ordered. “Now.”  
Philippe´s heart was beating in his throat, as he sat up and obeyed. The Chevalier turned his back to him for a moment and reached down for something in the trunk next to the wall.  
After he drew himself up and turned back, Philippe finally saw.  
He was holding a strong leather belt.  
“You have been very naughty, haven´t you?” said the Chevalier with a little smile and slowly approached Philippe on the bed.  
Philippe´s eyes were open wide and the goose bumps covered all the body. His anger was slowly replaced or rather mixed with fear and fascination, no less powerful or stimulating.  
“Chev-” he was slapped again, the Chevalier tore off Philippe´s jabot and plugged his mouth with it.  
“I said silence,” he reminded, “do you understand?”  
Philippe nodded.  
The Chevalier smiled and slowly helped Philippe to take of the coat and shirt. Then he touched his lover´s naked shoulder with the folded belt and slowly went across the back. Philippe quivered.  
“From now on,” said the Chevalier, tapped Philippe´s shoulder by a belt and then kissed the spot, “you belong to me. Not to anyone but me. I am your master.”  
He pulled out the jabot. “And now tell me, if you understand.”  
Philippe swallowed. “I do.”  
All of a sudden the belt hit his back, strongly and painfully. Philippe gave a scream.  
“Liar!” exclaimed Chevalier.  
“I do!”  
The Chevalier struck Philippe down on the bed so vigorously Monsieur´s face sank into mattress, he hit him again, ripped down his breeches and took him, brutally and thoughtlessly. Philippe screamed again, but equally in pleasure and pain.  
“Say it again!” the Chevalier thrust.  
“I do!”  
“Again!”  
“I do!”  
“Swear!”  
“I swear!”

Around this time servants reported to Anne, what happened in the western lounge.

***

Two hours later was Philippe lying on the bed, motionless, his eyes closed.  
“Monsieur!”  
Hammering on the door.  
“Monsieur, the King and Queen Mother request your presence! Monsieur?”  
Every inch of his body hurt. He was beaten, slapped, flogged, choked, his body had been stretched into positions he never imagined possible and also his wound wasn´t so healed as he thought, but the physical pain pushed away everything else. His mind was flying on a little pink cloud.  
“You locked the door?” Philippe mumbled and smiled happily. “They are furious.”  
The Chevalier was sitting in the chair and trying to look like nothing had happened. The truth was he felt he would need at least one proper meal and a quiet evening next to a fireplace before he could do something like that again. “I just wonder what took them so long,” he said.  
“The council meeting,” reminded Philippe still by the same weak, distant voice or person who´s half-asleep and just floating into a beautiful dream.  
“Monsieur,” new banging on the door, “His Majesty wants to see you at once!”  
“What will we do?” asked Philippe.  
“We can stay here forever,” suggested the Chevalier.  
Philippe chuckled, opened his eyes, turned on the side and supported his head with his hand. Several times he hissed with pain doing so.  
“Stay here forever?” repeated Philippe teasingly. “And what we will eat?”  
“Well... I know what you will eat, my love.”  
“How thoughtful of you.”  
“And it is known,” the Chevalier continued, “that when a pack of wolves is starving, they sacrifice the weak and wounded.”  
Philippe raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”  
“Monsieur, I have an order to smash down the door and bring you by force! Do you hear me? Monsieur!”  
“What did he say?” asked Philippe without an interest.  
“They´re just going to smash down the door and bring you by force.”  
“Oh dear. And I used to like them.”  
Both lovers listened to the loud bangs on the door and after the third one the door hinges came loose and three guards barged in. 

 

***

In the council chamber only Anne and Louis were there when the soldiers brought in their captive. Anne ordered them to leave and family were now alone.  
The silence in the room was so dense one could cut it into pieces.  
Louis´ face was still and he looked like he would prefer to be anywhere but here. Philippe stared at him coldly – last time he saw him, the king was lying on his wife´s bed.  
Anne stepped forward to her youngest, her eyes narrowed, she sighed.  
“Who is that man in the portrait?” she asked quietly, but her calm voice was more dangerous than a nest of snakes, so much Philippe knew.  
He looked at the portrait.  
“My father,” he answered.  
“Yes, your father,” Anne nodded, “and the king of France. Do you even realize what that means? A king is a man anointed by God and his blood is running in your veins! The crown is passed on for generations in this family! Your father and your grandfather spent their lives serving this country, they sweated blood in order to ensure the crown for your brother and he´s going to do the same for his son and on and on! Look into my eyes when I´m talking to you! You´ve never been given such a sacred duty, but as a royal you´re on display to remind people the reason why this family rules! With your dignity! Modesty! Manners! Because if your brother´s subjects stop believing for a second why we are where we ought to be, all this construction will fall on our heads!”  
“One morning doesn´t mean the end of dynasty, mother!”  
“Silence!” stormed Anne. “I will not let you humiliate your brother´s name, make our family a laughing stock! Once in my life I´ve survived a coup attempt and I don´t intend to test our luck again! What do you think your father would say, if he saw you now? If he saw what you have done?” Anne stopped her berating for a while to breathe and then asked: “Did you have at least any reason whatsoever to do that?”  
Philippe quietly looked at Louis and then back again.  
“No reason, mother,” he said.  
Anne hissed. “Maybe it´s good your father´s not here to see it. You´re indeed an embarrassment to the king, to your ancestors, to the very name Bourbon!”  
“Mother-“  
“Silence! Bishop Bossuet will define your penance. And as for that man, he will leave our court immediately.”  
“No!” Philippe was half-resigned while listening to Anne, but now he was revived.  
“You can´t tell me you thought he could stay for a minute under our roof. Didn´t you listen to anything I said?”  
“You won´t send him away, mother, I beg you, you can´t!”  
“Yes, I can and I will,” retorted Anne.  
“In that case get rid of me as well!” exclaimed Philippe passionately. “For I will not leave him, where he goes I go, mother!”  
“Don´t be ridiculous!”  
“I´m not! Take him away and I have nothing!”  
“The sooner he´ll be gone the better,” said Anne coldly and watched Philippe´s shaken face, “for your own good. The man-”  
“-remains here,” said Louis unexpectedly, “under the kings protection.”  
Philippe froze in surprise and looked at his brother. Louis looked at Anne.  
Anne turned to him. “You can´t possibly mean this! Do you realise?-”  
“I realise what´s at stake, mother,” nodded Louis, “but my decision is final. He stays. And now, please, I´d like to have a word with my brother alone.”  
“I just hope you´re not making a mistake,” said Anne, shook her head and left.  
The brothers stayed alone.  
Both were avoiding each other´s stare for some time, before Louis said: “Your friend the Chevalier should watch his trunk, or mother will throw it away herself.”  
Philippe didn´t laugh.  
“I know what you´ve done,” he said quietly.  
“What do you mean?”  
“You did this for a reason, as always. You want him here for a reason.”  
Louis took a sharp breath. “Reason? What reason?”  
“You expect me to be grateful! So I would turn a blind eye while you´re having Henriette!”  
“And I thought you´re not interested.”  
“She´s mine,” retorted Philippe, “and you know that. As our mother pointed out, you´re a king. You can do whatever you wish, with whomever you wish, but once in your life you could stay your hand – and you didn´t. Is there anything sacred for you?”  
“You know what?” Louis interrupted him quite irritated. “Maybe you should be grateful, because without me the Chevalier would be picking up his things from some gutter at the moment, at best. At worst... sodomy´s still punishable by death, law states it clearly.”  
“Is that a threat?”  
“It depends. Is it necessary?”  
Philippe didn´t answer and turned to the door, ready to leave. Louis quickly grabbed him by the forearm and Philippe gave a painful gasp. King frowned, tucked up Philippe´s sleeve and revealed black-and-blue marks from the Chevalier´s fingers.  
“He did this to you?” asked Louis strictly.  
Philippe wrenched himself free and rolled the sleeve down. “You did, actually.”  
“What?”  
“Think about it,” Philippe smiled bleakly, “you´ll get there.”  
“Doctor should see you, you´re not alright.”  
“Some bloodletting, perhaps? I´m sure it will help.”  
“Maybe better laudanum, to calm you down.”  
“I´m perfectly calm, thank you very much.”  
Louis hissed angrily and turned from his brother, who turned away as well towards the portrait of their father.  
After some time of silence Philippe said: “Our parents got married twenty three years before you were born.”  
Louis looked at him and nodded. “Yes, I know.”  
“People called it a miracle. Finally healthy, living boy after all those stillborn ones. That´s why they called you Louis Dieudonné. God-given.”  
Louis frowned, confused. “I believe I remember my own name, brother.”  
“You know,” continued Philippe, “every time I hear that it reminds me the Book of Job. A story about a man who lost his family, his property and his health for a God´s whimsy.”  
“If I remember correctly,” said Louis, “at the end God blessed Job for his loyalty by a long life, wealth and ten children. I suggest you not to forget about it.”  
“But you´re no God!” exclaimed Philippe. “You´re just the misery God has given me!”  
“That analogy might just work,” responded Louis coldly, “if there wasn´t a catch in it - I was here before you, remember?”  
“Is there a moment when I have a chance to forget it?”  
“What do you want?” shouted Louis who finally lost his nerves. “My pity?”  
“Save your pity, for God´s sake!”  
“Then what,” Louis controlled himself again, “tell me, man to man, what do you want.”  
Philippe approached him. “I want you to return what´s mine.”  
“I assure you, brother, I have nothing what belongs to you.”  
“Of course,” Philippe nodded, “my bad. All the France is yours, after all. And everything and everyone in it.”  
“That will be all, brother. You may go now.”  
Philippe grimaced and recited: “And the Lord said to Satan, ‘Behold, all that he has is in your hand.“  
“Get out.”  
And Philippe did.

 

***

Some two weeks later Philippe was just falling asleep when suddenly something touched his cheek. He jerked as a hand covered his mouth.  
“Hush, it’s me,” whispered the Chevalier while his hand went down and under Philippe´s nightgown to play.  
“Chevalier,” Philippe stopped him, “what are you doing?”  
“I thought after all these years you´d have some idea.”  
“No,” Philippe specified, “what are you doing here!”  
“You called for me.”  
“No, I didn´t,” Philippe frowned for a few moments before he understood, “oh... I see.”  
He quickly got out from bed and took a dressing gown.  
“What are doing?” wanted theChevalier to know, but Philippe already left his room.  
Quietly he crept through the corridors to his wife´s bedroom and put his ear on it.  
Yes, she wasn´t alone.  
Philippe listened for a while and felt a crazy need to hammer on the door, but then he turned around, went back and snuggled up to the Chevalier.  
“Chevalier?” Philippe asked silently.  
“Mm?”  
“Do you love me?”  
“My darling I adore you, I worship you, I have your portrait under my pillow to kiss every night.”  
“Do you?”  
“No, but I would have, if original wasn´t so much better.”  
Philippe chuckled and the Chevalier kissed him several times. “See? Much better. But now, if you haven´t called for me... should I leave?”  
Philippe kissed him back. “Never,” he whispered, “never leave.”  
“Is something going on?”  
“No,” Philippe was thinking for a moment and then repeated: “No. Everything´s alright, I guess.”

***

Louis and Henriette were lying on the bed and her head was resting on his shoulder.  
“... so you see the problem,” continued Louis, he drew Henriette nearer and kissed her breast, “France is the largest country in Europe, the most populous, but majority of our people don’t even speak French! Italian, German, hundreds of dialects! And the Catholics, and Huguenots! My point is, how can the world see us as a country, state, one body, if we´re divided from within!”  
Henriette listened, enchanted by his fascination. “I´m sure there´s nothing you couldn´t do, sire,” she said, “and if there´s a need to unite a country, I´m certain you´ll find a way. You can do it.”  
Louis got up from the bed, approached the window and opened it.  
The cold night wind freshened him and he watched the snowflakes falling on the roofs of Paris. But he did not see them, he saw further. His future, his France.  
“Maybe,” he said, lost in thoughts, “maybe I can.”

**Author's Note:**

> A feedback will be very appreciated :-)
> 
> Please, big applause for my amazing proofreader Trudy White, the stories would be hardly so readable without her.


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